


Spit Take

by Xpouii



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Bulging (Stomach and Throat), Cum Play, M/M, Masturbation, NSFW, Nostalgia, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Spit Kink, Tentacle Dick, Voyeurism, fuck buddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:49:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23075788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xpouii/pseuds/Xpouii
Summary: (Post-AA) Virgil indulges in some fond memories of when he and Remus were fuckbuddies while trying to ignore some inconvenient feelings he's developing for a certain prince.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Dukexiety, Prinxiety
Comments: 5
Kudos: 100





	Spit Take

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cindiez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cindiez/gifts).



“Kiddo!” Patton called as he stepped out of the kitchen. “We’re having a movie night… care to join us? I made cookies.”

“Yes, Virgil,” Logan echoed. “You don’t have to wear a onesie if you don’t want to. Patton just has an affinity for them for some reason.”

“Like you don’t?” Roman muttered, flipping through the menu of available movies. “Did we decide _what_ we’re watching?”

“March of the Penguins,” Logan said. “It’s the only possible compromise. There’s scientific information, aesthetically pleasing animals and it’s narrated by Morgan Freeman.”

“Aww penguins!” Patton gasped.

“I wanted to watch Aladdin, but…” Roman chewed the inside of his mouth, “You do have a point about Morgan Freeman. His voice is just so soothing!”

Logan seemed pleased with himself as he picked up a cookie from the large plate of them. Virgil reminded himself to sneak back out later and help himself once the others had gone to bed. Patton clapped his hands together, “Great I’m so proud we agreed right away! I can’t wait to watch these adorable penguins with my best friends. So what do you say, Virgil? Penguins do wear a lot of black, and there’s an empty spot on the couch with your name on it! Not literally but if you give me five minutes and some glitter pens I could whip something up.”

“ _You_?” Roman scoffed. “What about me? You’re going to make an artistic gift for Virgil without me?”

Patton smiled warmly at Roman and patted his knee, “Of course not, Roman. You’re my favorite artist!”

“Uh… gee Pat that sounds great but I’ve got stuff to do,” Virgil said. They were all looking at him then, Logan with his cool, matter-of-fact interest and Roman with a look that Virgil still hadn’t decrypted. The Prince would catch his eyes sometimes, especially across the room or in the middle of a group conversation, and Virgil felt cold and hot, invited and accused all at once. It was hard not to slip into a sneer and snap like he used to. Old habits die hard, especially in frightened animals, but Virgil wanted to be the _light side_ they had invited him to be. That just hadn’t quite extended to movie nights and cookies yet, so he ducked his head and hustled off to his room, kicking it shut behind himself. He’d left the kitchen on a mission after all.

Virgil locked his door, pulling up his hood before walking over and sitting on the edge of his bed; he closed his eyes and smiled softly, his mind swimming with slow memories, nostalgia that skated like fingertips over his skin. His legs opened, an automatic response as he slid his hand down to palm himself through his jeans; tingling heat swam over him and he whined, his fingers quickly unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. He moaned at the relief of pressure but it was short-lived as he hardened fully. Virgil pulled himself free of his underwear and spat into his hand. More memories, more heat as he wrapped his slick hand over his cock and stroked slowly, letting out a little chuckle of disbelief at just how good it felt. Virgil was usually much more interested in being with somebody than touching himself—it required a certain amount of self-interest that he struggled with—but he was in a bit of a transitional period, new friends and new… _faces_.

Logan, Patton and Roman weren’t anything like the _others_ , although Patton and Logan often wrestled for the top spot—at least that’s how it looked to Virgil when he was fresh from the subconscious, after he’d been _accepted_ , but now he knew that Patton was in charge in a far different way than Deceit, especially considering Patton had little idea just how much sway he held over Thomas’ decisions. Then there was Roman, Remus’ parasitic twin—as they used to call him downstairs—but so completely different. Where Remus felt unshakable confidence, Roman was a ball of insecurity. Where Remus liked to sneak up on a conversation, Roman burst into the room like a confetti canon, scattering fanfare and nicknames. Where Virgil had found casual companionship in Remus, his feelings ~~for~~ about Roman were complicated at best, and terrifying at worst. When Roman had given his little speech of encouragement in Virgil’s room, it wasn’t his cock that twitched. It was his _heart_ , and wasn’t that just the _worst_. At least with Remus, things were simple.

An easy moan escaped his lips and he couldn’t help but rock up into his hand, a slow sustained rhythm that he stopped only to gather the precum from the head of his cock and spread it downward. It used to always be this easy, smiles and moans and letting go. Anxiety was Thomas’ problem, and Virgil had always been happy to let it choke Thomas rather than analyzing, tweaking and dealing with it. Back then, he’d been Deceit’s—and _Remus_ ’, and he’d been a simpler, saucier creature. Even when he would mess up and get caught up in his own web of panic, and when Deceit’s gentle petting and encouraging words weren’t enough, Remus knew exactly how to fix the problem. Virgil’s smart little mouth had always been good for more than spitting vitriol and sarcasm, and Remus knew exactly how to drag it out—or push it in—in the best ways. Virgil raised his free hand and slipped two fingers into his mouth, moaning around them as he pressed against his tongue, thrusting them back and forth until they started to tickle that fluttery feeling in his chest, caught between swallowing and coughing, gagging and moaning—just like old times.

* * *

When Virgil came to him, Remus knew exactly what he wanted. His eyes were dark, red-rimmed and his lips were in a full pout, wet and reddened by chewing, absolutely _begging_ , “What is it, Emo?”

Virgil unzipped his hoodie and shrugged it off, pulling his shirt over his head; he knelt in front of Remus, a question in his eyes, spilling out in a throaty whisper, “Are you busy?”

“Too busy for you? Never,” Remus said, sliding his fingers through Virgil’s hair, gathering it so he could take in Virgil’s face. He was pale, but a blush sat high on his cheeks, and his eyes were darker than usual, the black makeup smeared all the way down to his cheekbones and streaked down by a drying tear or two of frustration. Remus always thought this Virgil was the most beautiful, so true to himself, so overtaken by his purpose and his instincts that even Deceit couldn’t suppress him, and he was begging Remus to fuck his mouth and let the wild brambles of the anxious side’s mind grow uninhibited until Remus choked it all away.

Virgil’s full lips twitched into the tiniest wisp of a smile as he reached for Remus’ pants. The creative side slapped his hand away gently, and lost his clothes via magic. He would rather be naked anyway—given the chance. His cock, so familiar to Virgil by now, was just as eldritch as anything else Remus had any kind of control over, a tentacle that—according to the creative side—had a mind all its own. Virgil was fairly convinced that Remus was perfectly in control of himself, cock and otherwise. It traced Virgil’s lips and the anxious side opened his mouth, closing his eyes as the first hints of the familiar taste touched his tongue. He opened wider to accommodate the tapered organ as it pushed further, heavy on his tongue and writhing against every surface of his mouth, exploring and giving Virgil that familiar stomach flutter.

Remus’ hand at the back of his head made him calm, tension easing as Remus took control; all he had to do was be present. The taste of precum made him moan, and Remus pulled back, making Virgil lean forward to chase his cock. He was hungry for it, entirely tunnel-visioned, and Remus chuckled, “Impatient, Emo?”

“Please,” Virgil whined, his mouth feeling achingly empty around every sound he made. “Please Remus, I want it. Pl-“

His words were cut off when Remus thrust back in, and Virgil fought his gag reflex as Remus’ cock slid past the back of his tongue to bump against the back of his throat, one swift surprising movement. He opened his throat, eager to be filled, to be used. Remus’ cock squirmed in his throat and he relaxed more as he felt the skin of his throat stretch and bulge to accommodate the hot, heavy organ. He moaned as best he could, his voice warped and layered by the overwhelming juxtaposition of pleasure and humiliation. Virgil looked up at Remus with lust-heavy eyes, his cheeks hot and his eyes were burning with the promise of choked tears already.

Remus backed up just enough to let Virgil breathe, and he could feel a mix of precum and drool sliding down his chin. He sucked in a breathe before Remus was inside again, and his eyes rolled back to stare up at Remus, glassy and grateful. It went on like this, drooling and gagging and the occasional hissed praise from Remus while Virgil spun out into the warm, safe headspace where he could forget himself.

Remus reached down and took a handful of Virgil’s hair, pulling him backward. Virgil whined in complaint, Remus’ cock sliding against his cheek as he slowly lifted his face; he knew what Remus wanted, and he opened his mouth, letting his tongue loll out as Remus spat into his mouth.

“How’s it taste, Virgil?”

“So fucking good. Thank you, thank you,” Virgil slurred open-mouthed. He made a show of swallowing, tossing his head back.

Remus leaned down to licked Virgil’s bottom lip before capturing his mouth in a deep, possessive kiss that left Virgil breathless. He broke it and stood back up and Virgil leaned back, opening his mouth again to beg silently, knowing he was already a mess of drool and tears, beautiful and destroyed.

“Hungry tonight aren’t you, Emo?” Remus chuckled, his cock sliding back into Virgil’s mouth, sweet on his tongue as Remus made his first thrust, cutting off Virgil’s ability to breathe or even swallow. He looked down at Virgil, combing his hair back again. Virgil met his eyes, lost in Remus’ commanding gaze.

The racing of his heart replaced any of the unpleasant tightness in his chest, and Virgil fully relaxed when Remus reached down to place his hand on the side of Virgil’s neck, pressing against the bulge from outside. Virgil’s eyes rolled back and he closed them, melting away into sensation and heat, more of a plaything for Remus than a functioning being—and that’s how Virgil wanted it for now. Forgetting everything outside of this room, the sounds and tastes and smells of sex were like a merciful smokescreen.

And then Virgil felt the familiar signals, throbbing and lost rhythm, and he groaned in his chest, anticipating what was coming—literally. Remus always came _so much_ , and Virgil could almost never swallow it all at once, but he always tried. After a few spurts Remus pulled back and shot across Virgil’s face while the anxious side eagerly swallowed what was in his mouth, “Yes Remus please give it to me, give me more, want to taste you!”

Remus growled as he thrust back into Virgil’s mouth and down his throat. Once. Twice, and then he pulled out, connected by a line of thick spit to Virgil’s wet lips. He knelt then, reaching to wrap his hand to palm Virgil through his pants. Virgil groaned and humped against Remus’ hand while the creative side cleaned his face, licking away the hot stripes of his spend. Remus captured his lips in a commanding kiss and Virgil got another mouthful of cum. He jerked in Remus’ grip as he came, choking as he swallowed and cried out at the same time. Remus muttered gentle nonsense as he rubbed Virgil through his orgasm and beyond, toying with the wet spot on Virgil’s jeans.

“Th-thank-“ Virgil stammered.

Remus stood and pulled Virgil to his feet, helping him to the bed where he was nestled in a pile of abandoned vellum and leather and silk. Remus kissed him on the nose and then gently stripped Virgil, “How about a nice hot springs full of demon octopi? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“ _More_ demon octopi?” Virgil hummed with a smile. “I’d love that.”

Remus swept him up and sunk out, reappearing in one of his little corners of the imagination where the air was heavy with steam. Virgil sighed as he was lowered into hot water, muscles he didn’t know were tense melted into warm butter. “Anything else, Emo? A drink?”

Virgil stretched, “I wouldn’t say no to a pineapple juice.”

“Good idea, keep tasting sweet for me,” Remus mused, conjuring a glass and handing it to Virgil.

Virgil sank into the sensation as several red tentacles found his legs, waist and chest in a deep—astoundingly innocent—massage. He let his head fall back, “Thank you, Remus, so much.”

“For you, anything.”

* * *

Virgil squirmed when his hand alone wasn’t enough, frustrating and disappointing as he rutted in his bed, mussing his black sheets. The memory of a thousand touches only made him want more, and he grabbed his sweaty pillow and threw it across the room, not comforted in the least by his little outburst. He kicked off his shoes, struggling with his jeans and underwear but not bothering with his hoodie. He was pulled so perfectly between arousal and frustration that his hand moved of its own volition, squeezing and twisting in hopes of finding some sensation that would push past the plateau where he hovered in sensual agony.

Finally Virgil made himself stop just long enough to reach for the nightstand and yank open the drawer, fetching the toy he kept there. It was tapered, but it couldn’t compare to Remus’ size—or dexterity. He set it on his stomach and reached back for the lube, popping it open. He arched his back to get two slicked fingers into himself. The prep was quick, unceremonious and then he lubed up the toy, rolling onto his side and moaning involuntarily at the feel of it pressed at his entrance. He rocked down against it, deeper each time until it breached him, and he moved it manually then, in and out a few times before he got it positioned just right, turning on the vibrations. It was almost a relief to feel _something_ , although it would never be enough. He cranked it up and his mouth fell open in a silent moan, his hips working as if he could get it deeper by will alone.

The toy was nowhere near as big as Remus, but when he rocked just right it nudged his prostate in a familiar way, and his body remembered as much as his mind—unfortunately his body remembered all too well exactly what it was missing. The girth, the weight and the _heat_. He wondered what Remus would say, watching him whine and writhe like an emptyheaded—and empty-assed—slut. He’d no doubt have a comment, and Virgil was almost glad the creative side wasn’t there to see him. There was no way—horny and even a little homesick in a super fucked up way—that he’d be able to resist Remus’ offers even though Deceit had made it very clear that Remus was on _his_ side of the line in the sand. 

Pushing bad memories away, Virgil let himself think about Remus’ cock, and the cold jab of Deceit faded—for the night, at least. The anxious side had _always_ been a size queen; Remus wasn’t just enough to bulge his throat, and memories of the tight tug inside made him chew his bottom lip. He slipped his free hand down to his stomach where he would be able to feel Remus pushing, bumping into his palm with every thrust, knocking the breath—and several filthy words—out of him. He gasped now as if he could feel it, and his body shook, his eyes burning as he squeezed them shut, pressing a fist to his mouth. He wanted to be shamelessly loud, but shameless was never really Virgil’s specialty, even back then. 

* * *

Virgil glanced around in the dim light as Remus tugged him along by his hand; they had snuck upstairs into the livingroom where Deceit forbade them to go. The sharp jaws of adrenaline had him by the throat, and fight or flight melted into nothing when Remus turned to face him, “Clothes off, Emo.”

Virgil shed his clothes tossing them in a pile on the floor as Remus magicked his own away, pulling Virgil in by the back of his neck. The kiss was feral, teeth and tongues and Virgil dug his blunt nails into Remus’ chest. When Remus pushed him to the couch, Virgil stammered, “H-how long do you think we have?”

Remus shrugged, “Deceit won’t be looking for us until tomorrow if we’re lucky.”

“I mean… the others.”

“You mean those _light sides_?” Remus purred. “Why? Want them to watch?”

Virgil blushed and the humiliation sent a pleasant spark through his body, but the time for talking was over—temporarily anyway. He moved into position on his knees, arms crossed to brace him against the arm of the couch. He relaxed into the position, trying to calm his racing heart until the touch of Remus’ hand on his back calmed him. Remus’ cock moved up against his own, a reminder of just how big he was, and Virgil reached down to stroke it lazily as Remus prepped him. Tentacles had never appealed to Virgil before he’d started things with Remus, but now the way it pressed into his touches and writhed like a sentient being—perhaps it was—was more than sexy, it was _endearing_ , and Virgil couldn’t help the soft smile that stretched his lips. Remus was leaking precum already, much wetter than Virgil could get without at least a little assplay, and it made Virgil’s hand slick and sticky. 

Remus pulled back then and Virgil almost complained, but then Remus’ cock was stretching him open and he let out a low, shuddering moan as he wrapped his hand around his own cock. The heavy member was undulating, writhing, _massaging_ Virgil in all of the right ways, and he moaned into the couch arm, stroking himself slowly. It was more habit and comfort than out of a need to cum; when Remus was splitting him, there was no chance that he wouldn’t have an orgasm, sometimes multiple and often without much substantial warning. Then Remus was bottoming out, and Virgil could feel him so deep that he lowered his hand to his stomach where a familiar bulge was, crawling underneath his skin, “ _Fuck_ , Remus.”

“Isn’t it nice?” Remus purred. “Stretching you, filling you up like the hungry little slut you are. How’s it feel, Emo?”

“It’s… it’s— _good_!” Virgil hiccupped as Remus moved, drawing almost all the way out before snapping his hips forward and sinking back in, and the bulge retreated and returned, sending another ache of arousal through Virgil’s cock. “You know it’s good.”

“I like when you say it,” Remus said, settling into a staggered rhythm to keep Virgil guessing. “Besides, what else are we going to talk about?”

Virgil’s eyes rolled back and he bit his lip, letting out a nervous giggle, “The w-weather?”

“Too boring,” Remus said, smacking Virgil’s ass. “Unless you want me to conjure a tornado or something. I think we should talk about getting caught, don’t you? Those sticks in the mud won’t know what to do, seeing me fuck you in their space like this. I bet Patton will just fucking die right then and there. My brother will be jealous because he’ll never get close to anything as gorgeous as you, isn’t that right, Emo?”

Virgil yelped at a particularly deep thrust and the words spilled from him, “Remus we’re gonna… gonna get caught.”

“Telling me you wouldn’t like that? The looks on their faces?” Remus growled, tangling his fingers in Virgil’s hair and yanking his head back.

“I… I don’t know,” Virgil panted, too ashamed of the real answer.

Remus ran the nails of his free hand down Virgil’s back, “That’s what I thought. You like being my pretty little whore, don’t you? You’d love for me to show you off.”

“Shit,” Virgil growled, because it _was_ true, and sometimes it terrified Virgil just how easily Remus could read him.

“You never disappoint, Emo,” Remus said. “And you always say all of my favorite words.”

“I haven’t said twatwaffle one time,” Virgil said, a smile on his lips.

Remus laughed, leaning down to kiss the back of Virgil’s neck, then up behind his ear; Remus got sweet when Virgil made him laugh. Deceit had told Virgil once it was the way to his heart—but that wasn’t where Virgil was aiming, so he shivered and pushed himself back into Remus’ thrusts. “Somebody’s impatient.”

“Come on, Remus,” Virgil said, as sweet and subby as he’d ever been. “Please give me your cock, please fuck me hard. It’s so good I want more, want everything.”

Remus growled in his throat and took Virgil’s bait, though he was far from trapped; he shoved Virgil’s face into the arm of the couch roughly and fucked into him with a renewed domination that made Virgil’s cock jump and leak and _ache_ with arousal. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” Virgil muttered into the fabric. Remus’ nails were back in his back and he choked out a cry, “Yes! Yes please!” 

Remus bit into Virgil’s shoulder as he came, and Virgil could _feel_ it, hot and thick and there was _a lot_ , filling him up like he’d begged for. He sobbed and barely had time to process the sensation before he himself was cumming, dirtying the couch under them and managing to milk more from Remus in the process until they were both rutting and growling like animals—and maybe animals is what they were. Remus pulled out and Virgil could feel the spend tickling down his inner thigh before Remus nudged him forward and he lifted his ass higher into the air, lowering his face into the couch cushions.

Remus’ tongue was hot and probably longer than it should be, but the way it felt had Virgil rocking back while the creative side sucked the cum out of him. When Remus pulled back Virgil whimpered, but soon he was being pushed onto his back and his mouth fell open. He looked up into Remus’ eyes, lolling out his tongue. Remus’ eyes darkened and he let the cum drool down into Virgil’s waiting mouth. Virgil’s eyes rolled back as the sensation fought against his own refractory period, and his cock gave a lazy twitch. Once he’d taken everything Remus offered, he rolled it around his mouth, curling his tongue at the corner of his mouth before finally closing and swallowing. 

“Such a good boy”, Remus cooed, swiping his thumb through the cum that had escaped at the corner of Virgil’s mouth. He pressed his thumb into Virgil’s mouth and the anxious side eagerly sucked it clean, floating on the cloud of praise.

“Thank you,” Virgil said again, softer and with a deeper, warmer meaning. He stretched then reached up for Remus.

Remus lowered himself to kiss Virgil, quick and chaste—if anything they did could be called chaste. Virgil melted into the affection and let himself be held. The couch wasn’t particularly deep, but Remus managed to maneuver them into a comfortable spooning position, pulling Virgil against his chest. The beating of Remus’ heart and the sound of their breathing as it slowed to normal brought Virgil down gently, and when he’d had enough, he squirmed in Remus’ arms, turning onto his back as much as he could without falling off of the couch.

Remus watched Virgil’s face, prompting the anxious side to smile, “I’m good, just gonna take another second. You should go make sure Deceit’s not looking for us.”

“Perish the thought,” Remus said sarcastically, but he smiled as he climbed over Virgil to stand. “I’ll go make sure Snake Daddy is none the wiser.”

Virgil stretched out, licking his lips clean for the final time as Remus sank out. He sat up slowly, careful to wave away the wet spot before he grabbed his pants, pulling them on. Dressing wasn’t easy on shaky legs, but that made it more satisfying, especially layered with the possibility of getting caught.

As if on cue, Virgil’s ears caught the smallest drag of a shoe on the carpet. He spun around, eyes searching the darkness around him for a threat. Roman stood in the darkened doorway, hand on the hilt of his sword; his hair and eyes made it clear he’d probably been asleep—maybe at his desk the way Remus did sometimes. He was pretty, Virgil couldn’t deny that—dashing, maybe, but a poor imitation of Remus. The prince met Virgil’s eyes and Virgil hesitated, staring at the other side before pulling up his hood and sinking into the floor.

* * *

Suddenly the deep vibrations were too much, and Virgil cried out, reaching back to turn it off and take it out. He was shaking, unsure whether it was the memory of Remus or Roman that had caused the sudden spike. Virgil huffed in frustration, and his straining cock regained his attention. He couldn’t stop now just because he was trying to deny a possible partial crush on his old fuck buddy’s twin brother. Wrapping his hand back around himself, Virgil tried to slip away, find another memory to turn himself on just that last little bit. After three minutes of desperate self-searching, Virgil sighed, “Fuck.”

He let that little mental block fade away, and the memory turned to fantasy, and the thrill of it zinged up into his chest and down to his toes, making them curl. He worked himself a bit slower, letting things play out.

* * *

Virgil locked eyes with Roman, in the dark, and Roman’s nose wrinkled, just a little, because he _knew_. The prince unsheathed his sword, stepping forward and holding it to Virgil’s throat, “Care to explain yourself, foul fiend?”

Virgil took a half-step back and sank to his knees; Roman looked pleased with himself, but his mouth fell open in surprise when Virgil nuzzled his cock through his pants. He tensed, but rather than taking a step back, he sheathed his sword and rested his hand on the back of Virgil’s head. Virgil undid Roman’s pants easily, pulling his cock free and covering it in kisses and kitten licks until the Prince was fully hard and pushing at the back of Virgil’s head. Virgil hummed and took Roman into his mouth and down his throat. He tasted nothing like Remus, none of the tingling magic _eldritch_ qualities, but more like a man with impeccable hygiene who also spends the better part of his days trapesing through enchanted forests, earthy and spiced and—for lack of a better term— _masculine._

Roman growled, and Virgil gagged when he thrust forward, holding Virgil in place. Whether it was warped hate, or Roman was just naturally rough, Virgil was lost in it. He managed to pull back when Roman allowed him to breathe, “Fuck!”

Roman smirked, “What’s the matter, Anxiety? Too big?”

Virgil laughed breathlessly, rocking back onto his heels and standing. He stripped off his clothes and moved to the couch, reaching to brace himself on the couch arm. Strong hands took his hips and moved him like he was weightless, and before Virgil knew it he was on his back with Roman slotted between his legs. He closed his eyes tightly and turned his face away. “What are you looking at?”

Roman snorted, and lips on Virgil’s collarbone made his bottom lip tremble, “Where’d that brave little monster go?”

Virgil bristled and leaned up, capturing Roman’s lips in a rough kiss and biting down on his bottom lip. Roman tangled his fingers into Virgil’s hair and pulled. Virgil gasped when Roman broke the kiss and looked down to line himself up. “Fuck yeah give it to me,” Virgil whispered, following the Prince’s actions with eager eyes.

Roman hesitated for a moment, spitting in his palm and running it hastily over his cock before slipping inside. Virgil threw his head back as it spun, Roman’s cock pushing in while he was still slicked up inside. He met Roman’s eyes, and groaned, “That’s his… it’s your brother’s cum. You know that right? Can you feel it?”

Roman’s nose wrinkled, but more in anger than disgust, and he spat in Virgil’s face, making Virgil moan like a shameless whore as he arched his back. Roman’s first proper thrust was rough, fast and it knocked him out of the fantasy completely.

* * *

The orgasm was heavy and sudden, like a punch to the chest and Virgil panted as he wrung himself out, his free hand fisting in the sheets, “Jesus, Princey,” Virgil muttered into the stillness.

Well and truly overstimulated, his nerves singing like they always did, but without the comforting warmth and weight of another body. He ran his fingers through the spend on his stomach, savoring the sight as yet another wave of nostalgia rolled over him, weaker than the others, but undeniably present as Virgil sucked his fingers clean, sighing at the rapidly-fading sex high.

Virgil heard a familiar sound and turned his head to look at the door, opened just a crack, “You just gonna watch again?”

  1. Roman moved forward, pushing the door open further with his foot. He was of course more put together than the night they saw one another in the dark living room. Not quite the picture of smirking valiance Virgil imagined, not a hero looking to dominate a villain. Nonetheless, the Prince looked willing, and Virgil was ready to move on and make new memories, as painful as it could be to accept change. What did he have to lose?



**Author's Note:**

> For Cindiez, I hope you liked it, friend!


End file.
